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grace-20
21/F/Canada Looking for a way to express hidden emotions
I am ****** But aren't we all? Please, someone, tell me we all are simply ****** Where did it first begin? I haven't the faintest idea but I feel if I were to own my fuckedness my life would have some colour
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 4:45 PM UTC
I am ******
Many of you turn to ask As you see me walking past "what makes you limp the way you do?" as though an explanation is owed to you I know that most just worry While others give to me their pity but for those who imitate me when I come by you will never know how you make me cry
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 4:41 PM UTC
My Limp
I am bound by One I cannot see and it is hard, ****** it is hard for me I see your begging eyes but I will not break and lead our souls towards demise
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 3:23 PM UTC
The Clutches of Religion
A mask and then goodnight A shake and then the light The scent of berries haunts my breath; I prayed it all went right A feel and then a sigh A tap and then a cry The colorful cast engulfed my body, And then I thought to pry A question left unanswered Plagues a curious mind And as a child, I had hopes, that All my answers I'd soon find But all there was to come of that Was pity and his old friend pat, A "close your eyes, you need to rest!" And that is all there ever was to that
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:07 AM UTC
The Crippled Child
This mind, you'll find, has been long abandoned by the calming solace of discretion Perfection. Pure and simple. Perfection My mind is crippled by your wants and yet, it yearns for nothing more I hate myself for what I seek... and that is you, perfection You cunning angel of deceit And while I weep for what I can't achieve I see you taunting me, oh my sweet perfection
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:06 AM UTC
The Perfectionist
I am tired of being black, Oh—excuse me, should I lie? Okay, well then golly gee ‘brotha’, for this blackness I am most willing to die Oh, ‘brotha’ how much longer must I wear this mask? Where is Dunbar so we can? But don’t worry, man. This world won’t be "over-wise" Cause our skin’s got all the power to hypnotize When they see this skin, they just gon’ shift the blame As ign’int slaves is how we done got our fame I am tired of being black I am tired of being black, Oh—excuse me, should I lie? Okay, well then golly gee ‘brotha’, for this blackness I am most willing to die
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:05 AM UTC
Remove the Mask
You see these scars? oh—go ahead sir, please Go ahead and trace them with your lovely finger Straight from my hips and right on down to my knees Oh, I got stories, baby! History’s written all over me But I save all them stories, darling I save them all just for me
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
Stories Not Yet Told
What I would give to sip you all day and all night You numb this old body and make it tingle with delight. I'm a woman, both strong and proud And yet I cling to you, my darling, the keeper of my shroud. Oh shine on me, moonshine And smile that glorious smile Encapsulate me in your arms And let us reminisce for a while With you I am free 'Bout as free as these dazed eyes can see. Oh Lord, I think you’ve got your grips in me I love you, babe, because, to me, you are liberty Oh but not just that—no, don’t let me sell you short I love you for your courage, honey For I am the most dependent sort
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Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:02 AM UTC
A Toast to Liberty